Skyrim's Dragonborn
by CastielFan-Kari
Summary: Boring title, I know. But hopefully not a boring story! From the moment she wakes up on that cart, unable to remember anything, she's pressed to be everywhere. Laden with destiny, completely confused, what will she do?
1. Chapter 1: Amnesia? Sigh

_((Alright! hello everyone out there!_

_I am a massive, MASSIVE fan of Skyrim!_

_Now, my story begins from when someone first wakes up on that cart. I know there are mistakes with the dialogue (and a lot of it is purposely cut out, mind you) and also I may have... er... forgotten a few names. This is because I'm writing from memory, but I'm less about the details the game gives and more about characters and their development. So here goes, the first of many, many chapters!))_

Light swaying woke her. The gentle movement of the carriage and the sound of hooves on the cobbled road caused her eyes to flutter open. Her ears begin to pick up the other sounds. Voices. Nord voices, speaking of their capture. It came in splashes as her tired mind tried to register them and cut out the horrible ringing.

"Hey, you! You're finally awake!" Oh, is that what she is? Because really, she feels more dead. The blood she feels dripping down the back of her head… it's no wonder she has such a horrible headache.

"Who are you?" Asks another voice. It's squeaky, frightened, belonging to a Nord with a very scared look on his dirty face.

Hmm, well it's a good question. She can't really remember anything, even as she sits up and looks around her. Tall trees tower around them, snow-covered. The wind is ever so cold, and it blows through her. She shivers, but finds her hands bound. She can't warm herself at all.

"Hey, you and me, we aren't rebels, we shouldn't be here!" The frightened man was staring at her with wide eyes. Rebels? Rebelling what? She can't remember any sort of battle. She can't remember how she came to be here. She can barely even remember her name!

When she doesn't answer the first Nord, the tall handsome man with blonde hair, answers for her. "You would have been caught anyways horse thief."

"Shut up back there!" A guard? Guarding them? All this talk of rebels and thievery was making her head spin. Was she a rebel? Had she stolen anything?

"What's up with him?" The weak Nord nods to her side, and she warily pulls herself up to turn her head. Another man sat there. He was dressed in bulky black fur, and around his mouth was a large cloth. He looked so angry at his situation that she even edged away a little.

"Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm and the true High King of Skyrim!" The first Nord hissed. It was at around this time that the conversation became background noise to her, as she could see a settlement loom before them. A welcoming sign read 'HELGEN'. She supposed that she really ought to know where Helgen was, but right now it wasn't striking any memories.

"The leader of the rebellion?Oh gods, where are they taking us?" The question brought her back to face them. She was still wordless, merely listening and picking up on all the information she could.

"Where else? End of the line. Where are you from horse thief?" The handsome nord asked. The cart slid into Helgen, and for the first time, she noticed the two other carts in front of them. A child runs past, stopping momentarily to stare at them before being taken back inside by an adult. He was right. They were going to kill them.

"Why do you care?" The answer was haughty.

"A Nord's last thought should be of home." This struck her. She couldn't remember her home, where she came from, if she had a family. Gods, her entire memories started when she woke up a few minutes ago!

"Rorikstead. I-I'm from Rorikstead." He squeaks. The name sparked no memories in her mind and she looks away from them, just in time to see the carts in front of them stop up against a wall. "Mara, Akintosh, Kynareth, divines protect me!"

"It's been an honor serving with you," the Nord addresses Ulfric as the cart stops. One by one they got off the cart, as did she. As she leapt down, trying to steady herself with flailing, bound hands, her muscles ached with every movement.

A guard orders them to stand in a line and wait for their names to be called. It prompts a "Humph. The empire loves their damn lists," From behind her, and it brings a small shadow of a smile playing across her lips. It may even have been a laugh if she couldn't see the archers with their bows trained on them, the headsmans block to their left…

Her life had only just started and now she was going to die.

Well at least she's known the world for all of ten minutes.

Yay. She felt special.

She didn't pay attention as her cart-mates were called and one by one they left to the block, proudly and calmly. The young handsome Nord was named 'Ralof'. What a lovely name…

But her thoughts were disrupted when the horse-thief was called. He tried to run.

_Fool!_ Was all she had time to think before four arrows pierced his back. And that was the end of him. She didn't even know his name.

"Anyone else feel like running?" Asked the guard, giving her a pointed glare. She shrugged. Nope, not me! If she had to die, she'd rather die by an axe, facing her death bravely than by half a dozen arrows piercing her back as she tried to flee.

The second guard's attention turned to her as he scanned through the list. "And who are you?"

Now that's the second time she's been asked that, and it's time to get some answers. She looks down at herself.

The softly golden flesh and blonde hair reaching down to her waist spoke 'High elf', although how she knew that was still a mystery. She was probably an arcana then, a magic user. She racks her mind, and does actually remember one spell. A fire spell. But that's hardly useful while her hands are tied.

As for her name, well, she's truly clueless there. Best make one up. "Nixa." She says calmly. Who knows why, it just sort of popped into her mind. She liked it. 'Nix' as in not. So not Nixa. Because she doesn't know who she is.

…It sounded better in her thoughts…

"Nixa?" The male guard checks his list then sighs and shakes his head. "What do we do lieutenant? She's not on it."

"To the block with the rest of them."The harsh lieutenant orders. Hardly fair of her. Nixa's not even sure what her crime was, and now she was going to die for it!

"I'm sorry." Says the male guard as soon as the lieutenant had left. He does look it… "I'll make sure your remains are returned to Tamriel, your home."

Tamriel? She'd never even heard of the place. Yet she found herself yearning for it, for a home, to be away from here…

Still, there's no use in running. Slowly she falls into pace with the rest of the prisoners over to the block.

The executions have already begun. As she approaches the block the first man is slain, his head rolling over the ground. Yuck!

As they're about to call the next prisoner there is a loud roar. It echoes off the mountains surrounding Helgen, bounces off the buildings, and for a moment Nixa can swear it sounded like language to her…

"What was that?" The guards asked, looking around as if the mysterious creature would suddenly pop up next to them.

Needless to say, it doesn't.

"It was nothing." The lieutenant hisses. Her eyes are on Nixa, and Nixa knows it's her turn. "Next, the high elf."

The roar comes again, louder this time. Closer. "Lieutenant, are you su-" Begins the young imperial.

"I said, next prisoner." She hisses.

Nixa steps out. She wants to die with dignity. She doesn't know why it should matter to her. She doesn't know if she has a home, a family who will miss her. She doesn't know anything and yet she still feels that if she had to die, she might as well die with some kind of honor. Bravery is the best defence against this tyranny.

_Tyranny?_ She wonders as she slowly approaches the block.

_Tyranny. They obviously don't know who I am or if I've done anything wrong. They're going to kill me simply because it's convenient for them._

She looks down. The block is speckled with blood both dry and wet. There's already a head in the basket. It's repulsive and the smell is horrible, but the lieutenant is shoving her to her knees, and she finds her head lying on the block far sooner than she'd have liked.

She looked up, at this masked black man who was going to kill her. She didn't know his name. She didn't know his motives, his history. And there he was holding the axe that would end her life.

She wasn't afraid. Merely curious. Why? How did he get here? He must have had some sort of past, what led him to be slaughtering innocents? Did he care? Did he believe he was serving the imperials or did he hate them for making her do this?

She supposes the questions are taking over where the memories of her life are supposed to be. But memories can't flash before her eyes because she doesn't have any.

_Do it quickly_. She shuts her eyes.

Wait… she opens them again.

No, she wasn't hallucinating. It was really there!

A big black shadow descending over Helgen. A shadow with a lashing tail. Huge hard scales. Bright red eyes.

…_dragon…_

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><p><em>((so, that's chapter 1! Please review! I love comments, especially any constructive criticism!))<br>_


	2. Chapter 2: Run from the dragon!

_Hello again! I'm back with the second chapter!_

_Huh. That was fast. Well don't get too used to it, I'm not the fastest writer in the world. But I won't stop and I promise at least semi-often updates!_

_And if you can't tell from this chapter, I'll simply state it here: I am a fan of both epic romance plots, and love triangles. _

_When I say epic romance, I mean: denials, betrayal, rescues, escapes, etc... NOT 'We met for three seconds and then totally got married!'  
><em>

_If that is not your genre, that's okay too, because I'm a fan of battle scenes as well. Unfortunately for this, her hands are still tied, but they shall come sooner or later! Yay!_

_At any rate, enough of me rambling on. Please read and review!_

As the headsman lifts his axe, she wonders if the dragon was too late to save her.

Wait, that was an odd thought, dragons don't save anybody! They kill and destroy! Rip and tear!

But the dragon did save her. When it lighted upon that building, it uttered an earth-shaking growl, knocking the headsman off balance. Then it shouted.

Again, Nixa could hear words in that shout. As though the dragon was speaking. But that's preposterous. Dragons can't speak!

Wait, what was she thinking? There _were_ no dragons! There haven't been dragons for thousands of years! And no, she doesn't know how she knew that. The thought had just popped into her mind in a fashion that was becoming increasingly strange and frequent.

As the dragon shouted, she felt the earth twist beneath her feet. Everything went blurry as the buildings started to collapse. She wasn't dead! That's about all she can process.

Somehow, through the hazy thoughts, she manages to stand and lurches away on unsteady feet. She sees Ralof in front of her and another small smile plays itself across her lips. The young rebellious Nord had survived. She knew he would.

He sees her, motions for her to follow him. What the- how'd he get his hands untied? Hers were still bound, useless. He'd even grabbed an axe off of somebody!

It was difficult to run with bound hands, but somehow she makes it to the tower and gains a few moments of refuge. Finally, she can breathe properly!

"It's a dragon!" Somebody yelled.

_Yes, I could see that_. Nixa thinks irritably. The whole world could have heard the dragon's call.

"We have to get out of here!" They could all hear the dragon outside. Nixa knew that leaving this place may not be such a good idea with it on the loose, but staying would be an even worse idea. If the creature brought it down over them…

The image of being flattened under many tons of rock and brick got her moving again, despite the binds. She and Ralof charge up the stairs. If they can get to the top there might be supplies up there somewhere. Enough to take down a dragon?

Well... uh... she'll come to that later.

_**SMASH!**_

She barely kept herself from falling over the side of the stairs as the dragon poked its head into the tower. She could tell what it was about to do by the puckering of it's scaly lips.

Ralof! He was in the way!

Without thinking, Nixa lunges forward, snags the back of his shirt, and yanks him back. The force of it causes them both to stagger down the stairs a ways, and his axe ends up giving her a huge cut along the leg as they roll together against the towers stone walls. But he's alive, and that's what matters, not the blood now gushing from her wound.

Unless it slows her enough for the dragon to catch her. In which case it would actually matter.

A moment later fire floods the area where he'd been standing seconds before.

When Nixa releases him, there isn't much he can say other than a mumbled "thank-you". He's dazed, she can tell by the wide eyes and quiet whisper.

_If she hadn't been there…_

If she hadn't been there he would have roasted. Simple.

Rather than ask her why, _why_ she risked her own life for his, he merely turns to the hole. "We can't go up anymore, but if you jump across over there you could probably land unhurt."

It took Nixa a moment to realize what he'd said. No, they couldn't go up. The fire had brought down part of the tower. They were lucky it hadn't fallen on them! She realized why he couldn't go too.

He was repaying her for saving his life. If they both left together, they'd be more noticeable for the dragon. Still… it was a long jump, and Nixa's leg was bleeding. She didn't think she could make it... and leaving him here to boot…

She turns to him, about to explain why she can't do it.

He taps a finger to her lips, having expected the protest, and shakes his head gently. "You'll be fine. I'll see you down there. Go."

She nods, but she still doesn't understand why he was concerned about her safety. Gratitude? Yes, that had to be it.

She turned, gauged and jumped.

She was flying! Flying! For a moment the rush of wind in her hair was just so lovely and the screams of the dying around her faded. She felt… peaceful.

Then she hit the floor of the burned building.

**Agony!**

Searing pain up and down her leg as the cut split open a little wider, spilling her blood across the ground. It took all her willpower to not scream out. As it was it took a few moments before she could pull herself up.

Standing on her bad leg was terribly painful. Any weight on it and the wound would scream and protest, spurting red blood across the floor. But she couldn't stop moving. Dragon! She had to escape the dragon!

...And Ralof. She had to see him again.

A horrible thought crosses her mind as she's forced to stop for a moment due to her wound.

_What if the dragon has already killed him?_

The thought prods her to action and she begins to pick up the pace. She has to hop down a level through a hole in the floor, but she eventually navigates her way outside.

And who should she run into other than the young male imperial who had been calling their names not a few minutes before? The one who had promised to safely return her remains to her home city.

He looked terrified!

And with good reason, she reminds herself. There's a myth on the loose and it's killing everyone!

If he had been the lieutenant – the vile and evil woman who had ordered her death for no real reason other than convenience – she may have attacked, trying to strangle with her tied hands. But there was something innocent in his features. There was no harshness. He was afraid. Timid, even.

"You're still alive, Prisoner?" he asked, his face haunted.

Apparently.

"If you want to stay that way, then follow me." He sprinted off.

What to do? Follow him? He was an imperial! Of course, her only other option involved standing there and being eaten by a dragon eventually.

Decisions, decisions.

She took off after him. She's very unsteady on her wounded leg and the ground is shaking beneath her feet as the dragon continues to roar as it flaps around. Yet somehow she manages to remain standing and moving without her hands.

She was so confused. Her head hurt. Her leg hurt. She was dizzy.

_Wonder what it'd be like to just curl up and die here then?_

It didn't look so bad actually… the faces were even somewhat peaceful.

_A game,_ she tells herself, _it's all a game. Follow the imperial and you'll get a treat. Life._

Well, that's a pretty good incentive. Despite the dragon flying directly over them once, and despite her leg throbbing faster than her heart, she manages to navigate her way through the ruin of Helgen, following the kind imperial.

Leap over the fallen beam. Dodge the mis-aimed arrow. Try not to look at the corpses lining the road. It became near automatic.

They emerge into a courtyard. Damn! Trapped! Guarded only by a handful of archers, whose arrows bounced off the dragon's thick hide.

Her heart soared, and for a moment she wondered why. Why was she suddenly certain everything would turn out okay?

It was him! Ralof!

…but that wasn't why her heart was soaring. It couldn't be. She'd known him for all of… what? Half an hour?

_Yes, and in that half hour he's saved your life, you've saved his life, and from a dragon no less! He's honorable, and has obviously been fighting these imperial dogs, and-_

She clamped the voice off, good and hard. It could all be chalked up to the effect of adrenaline and nothing more.

"Nixa!" He calls upon seeing her.

…why did that make her happy? To hear her not-name from his lips?

No, she was only… surprised. Yes, surprised.

He'd known she was being sent to her death. HE was being sent to HIS death. They'd been attacked by a dragon, almost killed by imperials, and yet he still remembered her temporary, fake name?

Coincidence. Sheer coincidence.

"Ralof, hold!"Hissed the imperial.

"No, we're leaving and there's nothing you can do to stop us!" Ralof says triumphantly.

As if on cue the dragon roars above them. It's a choice. The imperials can worry about the escaping, wounded and mostly unarmed prisoners, or the violent dragon looking to kill them all.

For some unfathomable reason, they chose the dragon.

"Follow me, Nixa! To the keep!" Ralof goes charging off, expecting her to follow behind.

And she _was_ going to follow. But to her surprise she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and is prompted to turn around. It's the imperial who has just helped save her life.

"Stay with me, Prisoner, I'll get you through this." He turns and runs to a different part of the keep.

…Great. Just great. Who to follow? They'll both be expecting her to come after them. And whichever side she doesn't choose, she'll be labeled an enemy to them and an ally to the other!

Well, if that was the case, best follow Ralof.

As she does so, she reminds herself she's following him because he was a fellow prisoner, not an imperial, and a very strong and capable man.

It was not because he was incredibly handsome, honorable, that he remembered her name, or anything of that kind. At all.

Those are her final thoughts as she enters the keep, the last salvation from the nightmare outside.


	3. Chapter 3: Inside the Keep

((Hello everyone! Here's chapter three for you!

By the way, It's been brought to my attention that High Elves are from Summerset Isles and that Tamriel is the continent name. Which really makes more sense now that I think about it... So anyways, this is just an apology for that problem earlier.))

* * *

><p><span>Inside the keep<span>

"I thought you might not be coming." Ralof says with relief as he hears her enter the Keep behind him. He turns slowly, and his face is a chalk-white, smeared with dirt and blood. "Th- that was a dragon!"

…why does everyone seem content with stating the obvious? What does he expect her to say? No, Ralof, it was a giant flying rat with scales?

Actually that's not a bad way to describe her feelings towards that horrible creature…

She wants to move to check on the bloodied rebel on the floor in the corner, but that's pointless. Not only is she so woozy that she has to collapse then and there, but it's also obvious from the other side of the room that the soldier is dead.

"Nixa?" He kneels in front of her, untying her bonds. It seems he's only just realized that she's wounded. "Here, I can help." He tears a piece of cloth from his ragged shirt and begins to tie it tightly around the cut to try and stop the bleeding.

It hurts.

Like hell.

And it doesn't appear to work particularly well.

But she does not cry out or complain in any manner, although that grinding sound is almost _definitely_ her teeth.

Once he realizes that it was his axe that caused the wound, he seems nothing but apologetic and sympathetic. "Just rest here a moment. We need to stay anyways to see if anyone else is coming. Are you badly hurt? Just wait here, I'll get you some armor."

Without even waiting for a reply, he leaves to do just that.

Funny. Nixa doesn't think she's said more than one word since she woke up, and that was only to state a name which isn't even her true one! Huh.

She watches Ralof stress with a shadow of an amused smile on her lips.

'Getting armor' consisted of stripping the dead soldier of his own bloodied armor. She watches distastefully, but she's in ripped and torn civilian clothes that were useless as defense. When he hands her them, and then continues to watch her, she raises an eyebrow.

"Oh!" He suddenly realizes and turns away from her.

Dressing is difficult when your leg is bleeding profusely, it hurts to stand on it, and there's a person just meters away who is trying very, very hard not to look at you. She manages to dress in several minutes without scraping her leg against the fur armor, but it's already blood-soaked and she feels like a necromancer in it.

It's scratchy and uncomfortable and she makes a face. Yuck, it smells of death.. "Alright, you can turn around now."

He almost jumps in surprise at hearing her voice. He'd almost come to the conclusion that she was mute! But she had spoken her name before, so perhaps that would have been an odd conclusion to reach. She was just so _quiet! _

He turns and a smile visibly falters. That... is a lot of blood. All of it hers and the Stormtrooper's. It's on the walls she leaned against for balance. On the floor. On the clothes. In her hair... He chews on his bottom lip, and leans back against a wall opposite her, trying to steady himself so she won't see him shaking.

Together they wait.

It's a wait without words, punctuated only by the ear-splitting screams from outside coupled with roars from a dragon which shake the Keep, drawing winces from Ralof as he thinks about all the people out there. The children, the women...

"Maybe we should just go." She says quietly, disrupting his thoughts. He glances at her. She's looking at the ground, very still and very white. It doesn't need to be said that there won't be anyone coming through that door. "We're the only ones who made it."

But then that idea is contradicted completely, only seconds after it's out in the open.

Voices. Approaching. And quickly.

"Imperials!" Ralof hisses, springing up. His axe is in his hands after only a second, and he's crouching behind the door, completely ready to attack before he realizes that she's vulnerable and unarmed.

He glances back over at her, alarmed. She's out in the open, in the direct view of every approaching Imperial, and she's sitting in a puddle of her own blood. Damn!

But it's too late to worry about her, the door is opening!

He leaps on the first man through the door, driving an axe up and into his face before the Imperial even realizes what's going on. But the helmet's good at it's job and the blade only hits the side. He compensates by shoving the already off-balanced man so that he falls, and can easily be slain by a quick chop.

There's no time to worry about the blood spurting onto him from below. Nixa! Where is she?

He wheels round, fully expecting her to have already been killed. But she's in the exact same spot as before, in the same position with her legs pulled up to her, the injury facing the ceiling.

In front of her, burnt almost beyond recognition, is a smoking Imperial.

...okay... that- it- he had _not_ been expecting that...

"Did you-? Uh..." He can't find any words so he motions, amazed, to the body.

A skeptical look is thrown his way. Unless he spontaneously combusted, it had to be Nixa.

"Oh. Well... look, we probably ought to be going now. I don't... I don't think anyone else will be coming. We need to get out of here." He offers her a hand to help her up, but to his surprise, Nixa grasped the wall and managed to pull herself upright without too much trouble.

Knowing now that she's capable of burning someone to a crisp, he's a little hesitant to turn his back on her, but he needs to lead the way as she's wounded.

Nixa watches him speed ahead and into the hallway. She puts a little weight on her cut leg, and the blood drains from her face. It's an effort, and every step is blinding white agony, but she manages to sort of hobble after him. She's got to learn a healing spell, or find a potion. This is almost unbearable!

Well, now that she has a few moments to herself, she can think. What does she know?

All she truly knows is that she woke up on a cart, so she must have broken the law somehow, that she's a magic user, and that she really hates dragons.

That... pretty much covers it all.

The sounds of a battle ahead of her cause her to hurry her odd little hobble-walk. "Ralof?"

There's no answer except for the sound of ringing blades.

"Ralof!" She puts true weight on her leg as she lunges forward to burst out into the room.

If the leg had hurt before, that's nothing to now, and her bandage of torn clothing is already soaked. She even lets out a small cry as the pain rockets up her nerves.

_Imperial! _

Or... well, he used to be an Imperial. Should she be scared that her first reaction to seeing the reddish uniform was to spray fire everywhere?

Well, to be fair, they did try to execute her an hour ago.

Trying not to look at the fried face of such a young soldier, she limps around him and scans the room for Ralof. And is rewarded by watching him slit open the belly of a second Imperial.

She's horrified at just how much blood there is inside him, how much can leak out. At least her fire leaves no blood.

Just... blackened flesh and bright red tissue where...

She didn't want to dwell on that, and turns from the scene, completely disgusted.

What should meet her eye when she turns to face the shelves, but a bright red potion. She snatches at it, examines it hopefully.

_Jackpot! _A healing potion!

She tears out the stopper and gulps it down.

It is the single most horrible thing she's ever tasted and she has to clamp a hand over her mouth to stop herself from spitting it all back out. Oh divines. It tasted like sludge, like thick gunk...

But it does the trick, that's for sure. Seconds after swallowing it there's a soft tickle in her leg. A warm glow shines from under the bandage, and when she tears it off, the cut is gone, leaving smooth golden flesh just as before. She stares at it wonderingly. She's _got_ to get more of those...

"Nixa?" It was a quiet prompt for her to get moving. She sighs. Yes, probably escaping should be first and foremost on her thoughts, but for some reason her mind just couldn't focus on that. She wanted to loot the room, search for treasure, for scrolls, for - her stomach rumbles. - for food. Maybe she could take a few moments to-

"Nixa!" Ralof's whisper is urgent. She turns to face him impatiently. But he isn't even looking at her. He's staring off down the hallway with a mask of horror draped over his face.

Curious, she sneaks over beside him and follows his gaze.

_...wow..._


End file.
